GUEST POST // The Pen and Paper Life by Ry Hakari

There’s a memoir somewhere around here
That bears my name engraved in bold on the front cover
Just the same as words cut deep in a headstone
A novel written on broken dreams with fallen tears
And a slap in the face to the one who creates
I’m nauseated by my own philosophy
And I won’t claim the pages as my own anymore
All they’ve done is rip me off with their clever lies
But it’s my turn to do the ripping now
So I’m sitting on this dirty window sill
Tearing out all my chapters page by page
Watching the wind carry them away one by one
But it isn’t as simple as I make it sound
Like a spider bite on the inside
Every rip stings my heart a little bit
Ten years have just gone out the window
By sitting in it for just three months
It’s been ninety-nine days today
And now I’m in need of a massive re-write
Because all that’s left are two covers and a spine
But I won’t be the writer this time around
God the Creator is my author now
So the new edition is sure to sell

© All rights reserved 2014

Why do you crave my Autumn? // Что в осени тебе моей?

This post was created at the insistence of Cyan RyanHis friendly support and professional editing helped me to express myself as fully as possible in English, in a language that isn’t native for me. This post is a punctilious translation of my poem in Russian, that was published before on the 10th of October, 2014. And I’m happy that now I can present you a really high-quality translation!

∼ ∼ ∼ ∼ ∼

Why do you crave my Autumn?
She is untameable and transparent.
She has few cheery days, and many dreary greys.
Her cold hand can’t enhearten with its touch.
Her pale cheeks never blush from sensual affections or lust.
Only empty endlessness lies behind Her pellucid blue eyes’ lids.
Her altar, a pedestal entitled ‘Eternity’, is seasoned with the ashes of the ordinary.

I met Her by chance one noisy summer day.
It looked like She loved me.
She passed away long ago, while Her residue remained within.
Why do you so crave my Autumn?

∼ ∼ ∼ ∼ ∼

Что в осени тебе моей?
Она дика и молчалива.
Немного в ней веселых дней
И много – серых и тоскливых.
Ее холодная рука
Не ободрит прикосновеньем,
И не зардеется щека
Желанья сладостным томленьем.
В глазах прозрачных голубых –
Лишь пустота и бесконечность.
Усыпан прахом дел земных
Алтарь – подножье слова ‘Вечность’

В один из шумных летних дней
Я с ней случайно повстречалась.
Похоже, нравилась я ей…
Она давно уже скончалась,
Но часть ее во мне осталась.
Что в осени тебе моей?

© All rights reserved 2014